James Martin takes the new slick Maserati Quattroporte for a spin

A. Finding a thin excuse to put the pedal of Maserati's Quattroporte Sport GT to the metal

Why am I hanging out by the docks? The answer will make me sound like a proper big shot.

See, somewhere in one of these containers is my engine. I'm restoring a GT350 Mustang and I've been waiting for the shipment – not the engine the fellas in Detroit originally put in it back in '67, but a proper Cobra V8 from the guy who builds Carroll Shelby's engines.

He only does two a month, which is why it's taken ages to get it. So here I am, looking at a thousand metal boxes, wondering which one's mine. Forget a needle in a haystack; this is worse – it's like the lost-luggage department at Heathrow.

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Also, I'm test-driving a new Maserati, and Southampton docks isn't a bad place to bring it.

This is where the Italians once landed their goods, bringing the Renaissance to England (with a free sample of Black Death), and in the Thirties it was our main passenger port – so I like to imagine cloth-capped Sicilians stepping off the boat to start a new life here, like Vito Corleone in The Godfather Part II.

Talking of films, a mate of mine recently did an involuntary re-enactment of one of my favourites, Midnight Express.

He was coming back from Turkey with a pound of dried oregano he bought in a souk.

Oops! Anyone with an ounce of common sense knows a cellophane wrap of dried green stuff at Ankara customs is a one-way ticket to a rubber glove where you don't want it. He hasn't been walking right since…

Anyway, Maserati. I can't claim the Maserati brothers ever stood on the quay at Southampton – it seems unlikely – but theirs is definitely the kind of history that excites me. Engineers Alfieri, Bindo, Mario, Ettore, Ernesto and Carlo were the go-to guys in the early days of racing.

In 1926, they began building their own cars and Alfieri drove one to win the famous Targa Florio. Theirs were some of the most beautiful cars in motoring's post-war golden age: check out their Tipo 61 'Birdcage', named after the 200 or so tubes welded together to make its frame.

Or, best of all, the 250F driven by Juan Manuel Fangio to win the world championship in 1957 – to me, the most stunning racing car ever.

Sadly, the company hit a rough patch in the Seventies and Eighties, and its clunky Biturbo performed so badly it was eventually sold to Fiat.

However, that's turned out to have a silver lining. Fiat and General Motors entered into a partnership that ended two years ago with GM handing over about £1 billion.

The Italians ploughed a chunk of that into Maserati, and the marque was reborn as a luxury brand.

So what has all that cash bought?

Well, for a start, the stunning Quattroporte Sport GT. If ever there were a car for the goodfellas and godfathers, this is it.

Styled by Pininfarina, the big, black, front-engined tourer is impressive from all angles. The interior is darkly welcoming, with the classic Maserati clock on the dash and hand-stitched door panels that make you feel like you're inside a handmade suit.

You can imagine two broken-nosed fellas jumping out to open the rear door for a cigar-smoking Brando with a tommy gun.

The only connection I've got to Italy, sadly, is the Gucci shirt in my wardrobe. So I dusted it off, donned the black suit and glided down to the docks, imagining that I was some Camorra gangster patrolling the Napoli waterfront (not a Yorkshireman within sniffing distance of a chip shop).

Powered by a 4.2-litre V8, 400bhp motor, this thing absolutely flies, with the manual version reaching 60mph in about 5.2 seconds and topping out at 171mph.

It's not a Ferrari that wants to smack your head into the headrest; it's a cruiser, of the highest order.

On the B roads it revealed a slight understeer when I took a roundabout at speed – a bit unnerving – but at the next one I kept the revs high in a lower gear and floored it later in the corner, and this big beast put a smile back on my face.

I have this argument all the time with my Porsche-loving mates: they say Porsches are the only perfectly designed cars on the road.

I say that may be the case, but they're boring to look at and anyone can have one. With cars such as the Maserati, it's the details – the chiller locker for your drinks, for example – that make you feel like you're in a world of your own.

The Quattroporte currently comes in three versions: the standard model, the Executive GT for rich people who play bowls, and the Sport GT for people who prefer to keep their balls in their trousers.

That reminds me of a joke I was told.

Tiger Woods finishes The Open in Scotland and is on his way home in this car. He pulls in for petrol and falls into conversation with a Scotsman. 'Nice car,' says the Scot. 'What's it got in it?'